<font color=8F66AD>last blues for bloody knuckles%01</font> [open]

How long had it been since she had left the confines of Iromar? How long since her form had been seen anywhere but the mists? Too long, but she had been drawn out for blood, drawn out in endless search of her fallen daughter. Caligula - she had attacked her Vidar, torn his eye and destroyed his handsome face. Ruvindra had always been raised to seek blood for blood and though such a large part of her ached over her love for her child, she could not allow such a transgression to occur without punishment. Had Vidar sunk his teeth into her dark daughter's face, it would have been he with his head rested atop the guillotine, make that be known. It had been the most pained decision to seek vengeance upon one she had raised so lovingly, one of the few connections to her soul - Nero - that she had left. It had to be done and without a single word to either Paldor or Vague, she had departed the pack in search of her.

She had traveled for some time, the sun making a full circle across the sky as daylight once more broke. The night had brought her a fruitless search, all trails extinguished or stale. She had imagined it would have been easier to find the two of them but alas, she had rose them to be... too intelligent, too adept and she cursed herself for it. But her paws had begun to ache, her stomach rumbling and flopping about in protest within her and though she desired to continue her search, she was forced to retire prematurely. It was an area of Moladion she had hardly ever visited even before her hermit-esque lifestyle had begun; the eastern regions had been a place she had formally resigned to the Angels. They were... not such an issue anymore, her fear at that point replaced with blatant desire to hunt her daughter like a fawn.

She dragged with her a hare, freshly torn and half flayed, as she rose along the grassy ridge; she surveyed the area, pausing but for a moment with her tail arched and body held with utmost confidence. The morning sun cast a deep shadow before her, the field covered in a dark cloak as she finally began to descend - she stood somewhat illuminated, the first light breaking over the ridge and creating a beacon of her. Her movements were effortless, her paws taking her silently across the field with her eyes set on her prize - a tall oak, alone, stood within the center of the area, its branches stretched tall and wide. Even as the sun chased her, the earth beneath the tree remained dark, so much like her home.

And finally, she was there, her fur still a ghostly glow against the blackness of the shadow, her muzzle reddened with blood as she dropped to her belly. With the hare between her paws, she began to skin it, a delicate art she practiced with a (surprisingly) broad, mischievous grin. It hardly took her mind off her objective, her reason for even being there, but it was enough to give her some essence of peace; the area reminded her so much of Japeras Lake, where she had met Nero all but five years ago. Her ears laid back, her eyes closed as she continued her work in relative silence. There were others somewhere, somewhere nearby, their scents drifting in the wind but let them come. Let them come see the face of a woman scorned.

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